


St Trinian's will make a man out of you

by orphan_account



Category: St Trinian's - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Work Up For Adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: St Trinian's has never had a male student. Scratch that, it had one and he's buried under the tennis courts now.An old friend of Annabelle's needs to finish his schooling and where better than his late mother's Alma Mata?
Kudos: 4





	St Trinian's will make a man out of you

Annabelle Fritton pushed her way through the crowd of chattering girls heading to their first period lessons with a grimace. She had overslept, missed her alarm and was struggling not to cry at the way her head was pounding and her empty stomach was threatening to upheave

"All right Annabelle!" called several of the first-year girls as they passed her on their way to their various lessons.

Annabelle waved her middle finger in their direction with a tired smile. "That's the last time I am drinking with you lot!" she called and the eleven-year-olds burst into giggles as Annabelle waved them off.

"Still can't handle your alcohol I see," Polly said as she joined Annabelle on the landing before the two descended the stairs.

In between the stack of textbooks and her laptop, Polly was balancing a blue glass bottle which Annabelle recognised to be the geek's home-brewed hangover tonic. It relived a headache and the general shitty feeling the morning following a drinking session would leave and it was highly sought after by both faculty and students but she hardly gave it out for free. "Bought this for you when I realised you'd slept through your alarm."

Annabelle swore under her breath and ran a hand through her hair. "We were supposed to have breakfast together weren't we," she remembered aloud.

"It's alright, Taylor saw you were drinking with the firsties and she told me before I logged off the exchange markets so I knew I shouldn't be expecting you. How was it anyway?" Polly asked as she held the bottle out much to Annabelle's relief.

"It was going fine until Tania and Tara brought out their own bottles and I was spiked by the little minxes," Annabelle sighed fondly, taking the tonic with a weak smile and knocking the concoction back.

Polly laughed as the two entered one of the unused classrooms downstairs that had been turned into a common room for the sixth formers. "You've got to give it to them, that stuff is lethal."

"What you talkin' 'bout?" Taylor called from the sofa. She was laying on the arm of the sofa and her long hair was dangling on the floor as she split her time between watching Andrea sharpen the end of a pencil with a knife and filing her nails.

"The Twin's vodka, or at least I think it's supposed to be vodka," Annabelle sighed as she settled into a loveseat as Polly set up her laptop at one of the desks.

"That stuff is pure petrol I swear," Andrea scoffed, using the point of the knife to move the wood shavings into a crack between the floorboards.

The door opened suddenly to reveal Peaches biting at the skin of her thumb. "Oh my god do I have a major problem or what," she panicked, pacing around the front of the room, her high heels clicking with every step.

Annabelle and Taylor exchanged wary looks as Chloe and Chelsea stood up from the sofas they had been laying on in the corner.

"What's wrong babe?" Chloe asked, hurrying to her best friend's side.

The Posh Totties had not yet changed into their uniforms and were all still in the lingerie they slept in. The only thing keeping them moderately covered were the long silk dressing gowns but they hung open, still showing off their bodies.

"I can't decide whether to wear red or black!" Peaches wailed and it was then everyone collectively saw the lingerie sets in her hands.

"Think it through Peaches," Annabelle offered but she was busy scrolling through her mobile and didn't get up from her seat.

"Who is the target?" Polly questioned, spinning on her chair to face Peaches and the Posh Totties.

"Gordon Jones, the head of the British Bank," Peaches told them and Polly's fingers whirled over the keyboard of her laptop.

"Okay," she said as her eyes scanned the screen. "Recently divorced, two kids aged seven and nine, invested in several racehorses last year and he drives a black Bentley town car with red interiors," Polly told the room.

"Does that not scare anyone else?" Andrea stage-whispered, pointing with the knife to Polly but she was ignored for the most part.

"So it's easy, go for the black lace bra and panties with these stockings," Chelsea was unhooking and pulling off her own black suspenders.

"Yeah, yes, and with that black Burberry coat, you know, the one with the redlining, you're killing two birds with one stone," Chloe agreed with a bright smile.

Peaches took the suspenders from Chelsea and grinned. "Mac's Russian Red on the lips and he's a goner," Peaches said triumphantly.

"Well done girlies, working together to solve the problem," the unmistakable voice of Camilla Fritton broke the Posh Totties squeals of glee. "I suggest taking one of the horsewhips with you, never know with those bankers do you," she laughed and stubbed her cigarette out on the window sill she was perched at.

"Remember the amount we need?" Taylor asked and Peaches nodded, thinking back to the ulterior reason she was even seeing the man.

"Six thousand in cash with an investment at the start of the next term," she confidently told the room.

"Good, good, now finish getting ready as I'm sure his car will be here soon," Camilla suggested and Peaches left with Chloe to fix her hair.

"Six grand will be wicked," Taylor sighed happily as she continued fixing her nails. "What's it for Miss?"

"The swim team have suggested that a new sauna and jacuzzi system would be appreciated and I wholeheartedly agreed," Camilla beamed, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

"Code yellow, I repeat code yellow. An unknown vehicle driving up to the entrance," a voice coming from a walkie-talkie interrupted the common room's peace.

"We sure it's not that Jones fellow," Camilla asked and Polly relayed the question through the walkie-talkie that was always clipped onto her skirt.

"Negative, his vehicle is registered under surveillance and would approach from the East driveway, this is definitely an unknown vehicle coming from the visitor's drive."

"Visitor's drive?" Andrea echoed. "I didn't even know we had that."

"Occupants?" Polly asked as she pulled up the surveillance camera feed onto her screen.

The walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Three of them; one driver, one older gentleman and one younger man."

Camilla looked over the geek's shoulder and watched as the camera tracked the car as it wound its way through the wooded road in which visitor's only used (and very rarely at that).

"We've got three minutes if they continue driving at that speed!" the geek said over the walkie-talkie.

"Open the gate twenty seconds after they press the buzzer, that should give us some time without looking suspicious," Camilla said and she left the room, shouting orders to those she passed.

Polly swore and typed something into her computer that sent an alarm somewhere in the school to ring. After a second or two to digest the information, the girls were on their feet and rushing to their stations.

Chelsea took the stairs two at a time and ran to the second form dorm as fast as her six-inch heels would let her. She was in charge of first and second-year presentation and when she entered the dorms, she began shouting instructions to the younger girls who had rushed there from their lessons. "Get that girl down from the crucifix and make this dorm look presentable!" she ordered and the girls began to scrub battle plans off of the walls and help retrieve the firstie who had been serving punishment on the wooden cross at the end of the long dorm.

Taylor, meanwhile, had sprinted to the back of the school and used her fingers to whistle for Miss Cleaver who was showing the third years how to properly hotwire a car on the gravel driveway. "CODE YELLOW!" Taylor bellowed and the third year class dispersed to help tidy away the voodoo skulls on the driveway and make it look as though they were warming up for a game of field hockey as the sports teacher buried the crowbar in her hand into the gravel drive's rocks under her feet.

Andrea went to help Beverly and the Bursar move the pile of fraudulent passports from the reception area. The side-project had been a sweeping success and there were hundreds of counterfeit passports littering the room.

Polly was using her laptop to counteract the defensive systems in place, making sure that none of the paint bombs or traps would explode as the girls hurriedly moved everything to a pre-agreed place in order to make the school look less threatening.

"Where is Kelly?" Annabelle asked as the chaos ensued and Polly shrugged.

"Dammnit!" the geek swore and she pulled on her Bluetooth headset. "The stock markets just took a hit so I'm going to have to sort this out. Annabelle, you need to find Celia and make sure she's secured all the pot!"

Annabelle nodded and set off for the west wing of the school where Celia had been cultivating a large supply of marijuana for her herb and gardening class. The alarm was faint in this area of the school.

"Celia!" Annabelle called when she pushed open the heavy door to the classroom Celia had overrun with plants. "Didn't you hear, it's a code yellow."

Celia looked up from the plant she was cutting with wide eyes. "What! They can't come this way. This is nearly three hundred thousand pounds worth of produce but it still needs to be dried out. I can't move it. I'm doing it all today!"

Matron's head popped out from behind a tall plant. "Three hundred and fifty girlies, have some confidence," she reminded Celia as she weaved through the plants to stand beside the two girls, a pair of silver shears in her hand. "She's right though, it cannot be moved, we start drying it out today."

"Shit, what if they come this way? Or if they're from the energy company, I mean, it's like a furnace in here with these lights," Annabelle complained as she shrugged off her cardigan and loosened her blouse, trying her cardigan around her waist.

"Solar power baby," Celia grinned, pointing to the ceiling. "It's all hooked up to solar panels on the roof. Completely off-grid I swear," she reassured Annabelle.

"Go and find Kelly and make sure they don't come this way," Matron ordered, pushing Annabelle to the door. "And if you get a moment, send a firstie up with a bottle of scotch would you."

* * *

The town car slowed to a stop at the front of the school and the driver exited first. He opened the door for his passengers with a straight face, staring ahead at the rolling fields and grounds.

"Thank you, Barton," Ivan Vashchenko said to his chauffeur as he exited the car. He straightened out his cuffs and brushed the non-existent dirt off of his tailored suit. "Come on boy," he said, his Russian accent thick as he moved out of the way to allow the other passenger to climb out of the car.

Barton closed the door behind the younger man and went to the boot of the car to retrieve several cases and a large trunk.

Vashchenko nodded and led the way towards the large double doors which substituted for the school's entrance.

Before he could push one open, a small squat man with large glasses and a small moustache slipped through them and smiled meekly.

The Bursar swallowed audibly and held out a shaking hand for the Russian.

"Hello, how do you do. I'm the Bursar," he said, grimacing at the grip Ivan used as they shook hands. "How can I help?"

"Well, it is cold and I think we could have this discussion inside. I believe Camilla is expecting me," Ivan smiled but it held no comfort and the Bursar paled as the two men continued towards the door.

"Wait!" the Bursar squeaked, throwing himself on the door before Ivan could reach the handle. Andrea and Beverly were still moving the passports into a side cupboard and had begged for at least a minute of stalling.

"Yes?" Ivan questioned, looking down at the man with a raised eyebrow.

"Let us go around the back and we can simply walk right into Camilla's, I mean Miss Fritton's office. If you would follow me," the Bursar gestured to the side of the grand building and Ivan complied, the younger man trailing behind the two men as they left the front door for the back of the school.

Miss Cleaver was overlooking the faux hockey session, aware that whilst her students were dressed in less formal clothes than their usual uniforms, none were really dressed for a game of hockey.

"All right girls, now run a lap around the field," she ordered to the groans of the girls.

"But Miss, no one is even here!" one of them argued but she quickly began to run, the rest of her friends following.

Miss Cleaver puffed her chest out with pride, mentally patting herself on the back for her control over the class when she turned and saw the Bursar mopping his brow as he led a large, intimidating man to the back of the school.

Miss Cleaver quickly jogged over, a hand on her army beret as she stopped the procession. "Can I help Bursar?" she asked, her eyes wide as she silently asked him what was going on.

"Mr Vashchenko is here to see Miss Fritton," the Bursar said in a small voice and Miss Cleaver nodded along.

"Right, jolly-oh," she said before thrusting her hand out for the man to shake. "Vashchenko... Russian, I'm guessing."

"You are correct. Ivan Vashchenko," the man introduced himself. "And my son Alexander," he used his head to gesture to the boy behind him who was using the toe of his expensive patent shoes to move the pebbles underfoot.

"Ah, right," Miss Cleaver was trying to stall and give the girls inside as much time as possible. She was about to say something else when Alexander bent down and retrieved the crowbar the sports teacher had half-heartedly buried only moments before.

Both the Bursar and Miss Cleaver's eyes went comically wide.

"So... here to see Miss Fritton, well, go on in! Don't let me keep you!" Miss Cleaver was pushing the Bursar and he quickly left, leading Mr Vashchenko into the back of the building.

Alexander smirked as he handed the crowbar to the sports teacher when he passed her.

"Buggar," was all Miss Cleaver said and she went back to her third-year class, deciding that hunting for rabbits down on the outskirts of the school grounds would be the safest option for the rest of the morning.

* * *

On the roof of the school, Flash Harry was attempting to end an important deal with a French collector via the phone.

"Now listen 'ere mate, my lowest offer would usually be forty-five but for you, I'll let it go for thirty-three," he said, waving over his shoulder to whoever had just settled into one of the chairs on the roof.

The Frenchman on the phone said several things before he agreed to the deal. "Excellent, excellent. Have the money transferred by midnight and I'll have the painting in transit on it's way to the land of the French before dawn," Flash told him and he ended the call with a triumphant smile. Camilla had been painting copies of lesser-known but still expensive paintings and Harry had been selling them to foreign markets with no trouble.

"Good deal then Flash."

The seductive lilt to the words had Harry standing with his back ramrod straight. He turned on his heel slowly and nearly fell to his knees at the sight of the Head Girl, Kelly Jones, with his hat on her head.

His throat had gone dry and Flash had lost all of his usual confidence. "I thought there were a code yellow going on," he mumbled and Kelly set his hat back on the chair he had placed it on before the call.

"Really, must have missed it as I've been looking for you," Kelly said and she held out a hand. Flash rushed forward and slid his palm into hers, helping to pull her up from the beanbag.

"Oh yeah, handsome," Flash faltered. "What can I do for ya?"

"Ivan Vashchenko just pulled up and his son is here with him. Gonna need you to help show him the ropes," Kelly said as she began walking back to the skylight which everyone used to get up to the roof.

"Right, solid. Wait, what?" Flash snatched his hat up and quickly followed the Head Girl as she disappeared down into the school. He didn't want to know how Kelly was so informed; she had some mysterious way of always knowing what was going on.

Kelly led the pair of them through the hallways of the upper floors to a laundry closet but when she opened it, a fireman's pole was all that Flash could see.

"We ain't takin' that right," he asked and Kelly simply hiked up her pencil skirt and wrapped her ankles and legs around the pole with a wicked smirk.

"Either take the shortcut down to the reception or I'll see you in five when you've trudged down all them stairs," Kelly said before she slid down the pole out of sight.

"Ah shit," Flash ran a hand over his stubble and gingerly peeked down the pole which seemed to continue down several floors.

"Oi Flash!" Annabelle called out, jogging to meet him at the closet. "Was that Kelly?"

"What, oh yeah, she just..." Flash trailed off as he pointed to the pole.

"Brilliant. Move over would you," Annabelle asked and before he could say anything in return, Annabelle was sliding down the pole.

"Damn, what's a geezer gotta do to have a peaceful day around this bleedin' school," he muttered to himself and then slid down the pole, passing three floors and landing in an undignified heap at the bottom.

Kelly and Annabelle were fighting smirks from the doorway of the cupboard the pole lead to. Each had their arms crossed and their hips cocked as Harry fought to stand up.

"Come on, they're here now," Kelly told Flash and she turned and left the door frame.

"Shut up," Flash said to the smirking Annabelle as he followed the Head Girl, with Annabelle following behind him silently, grinning like a cat who had caught the canary.

* * *

Camilla stubbed out her cigarette as the voice of the Bursar grew louder and louder in the hallway.

"If you will just wait a moment I will make sure Miss Fritton is ready to see you," he said but Camilla called out for the guests instead. "Or just go on in," the Bursar trailed off as he opened the Headmistress' door.

"Ah Mr Vashchenko, always a delight to see you. You should have said you were dropping by today," Camilla laughed as she stood to greet the Russian man.

"Mila my old friend. It has been too long," he said as they shared a hug. "I'm sure this unexpected visit didn't cause too much trouble for you and your girls," he asked as the two took their seats.

Camilla offered the man a cigar from her drawer after taking one herself and she lit them with her lighter. "You know as well as I that my girls have been running around under a code yellow thinking you were from the Ministry of Schools."

Ivan exhaled a cloud of smoke. "My apologies but I do enjoy ruffling the feathers of a Trinian's girl," he laughed and Camilla smiled sadly.

"Such a shame to hear about Bianca's demise. A good egg that one. One of the finest Head Girls we've seen," Camilla raised her cigar as if she was toasting the woman.

Ivan shook his head. "I miss her more and more each day," he sighed.

* * *

"Ello love, d'ya wanna cuppa or sumin'?" Beverly asked, kicking a stray passport under one of the couches in the reception area as she went to greet the young man.

Alexander shook his head. "No thanks, a stiff whiskey would be better," he joked and Beverly nodded, running off to make his drink leaving him looking slightly dazzled.

From behind the corner, Kelly and Flash were watching the boy, waiting for Polly to finish digging up information about him. The geek was balancing her laptop on her knee as she searched for him.

"Alright, his names Alexander Vashchenko, son of Ivan and Bianca. Bianca died three months ago but was a Trinians Head Girl when she was here. The father is an important person in Russian investment banks and has connections with Italy. Huh..." Polly trailed off.

"What?" Kelly demanded.

"Says he's enrolled here."

Kelly grinned wickedly and grabbed Flash's lapel. "I thought as much. Come on." Kelly dragged Flash to the reception area and stood in front of Alexander, her hands on her hips.

"Kelly Jones, Head Girl and this is Flash, Head Boy. It's Alexander right," the head girl said and Alexander nodded slowly.

"One stiff whiskey sir," Beverly appeared at Kelly's side and she handed the drink over.

"It's nine-thirty in the morning," he said but accepted the glass all the same.

"Oh, sorry, I can pour some coffee out and you can slip it in that if you'd prefer," Beverly suggested but Kelly thanked her and sent her back to her desk.

"May I sit?" she asked and took the vacant space beside the boy who sipped his drink with a wary look. Flash was only just recovering from what Kelly had said and he took the right side of the boy.

"This is already living up to her letters," Alexander chuckled as Beverly turned on her stereo and the rumble of an explosion echoed throughout the school followed by the sounds of shouting and swearing.

"Letters? Whose letters?" Flash asked but Alexander's answer was interrupted.

"Xander?" Anabelle cried as she finally made her way into the reception area.

"Belle!" the boy jumped to his feet.

"What?" the two left sitting on the sofa said.

Annabelle surged forward and hugged Alexander. He was still taller than her despite her heels and he easily lifted her off of the ground.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were even in the country?" Annabelle demanded as he set her on her feet and she tottled on her heels for a moment.

Xander scoffed. "And ruin this surprise, come on Belle, you know I wouldn't deprive myself of this."

"You two know each other then?" Kelly asked, her eyes flicking between the two who had yet to let go of each other.

"Yeah, Xander and I have been friends since childhood. Our mothers were school friends," Annabelle told her friend. "Although I still don't know why you're here."

Ivan and Camilla came into the reception area at that moment.

"Oh, grand, darling look who it is," Camilla beamed, handing her cigar to Kelly who continued to smoke it.

"Ivan," Annabelle said happily and she accepted a sweet hug from the older man. "I'm so sorry to hear about Bianca."

"She is in a better place now," was all the Russian said.

"Ivan this is my current head girl Miss Kelly Jones," Camilla introduced the pair. "And Flash Harry is here too, what a delight," she laughed.

"The current Head Boy," was all Flash said and Camilla caught on quickly.

"And the best one we've had yet," she chortled to which Ivan clapped his son on the back.

"You see, not the only boy they've had. They've got one right now," he reassured his son.

"Wait. Are you enrolling here at St Trinian's?" Annabelle asked and Xander nodded. "But Flash doesn't count. We all know Flash. You would be the first proper and legitimate male student we've ever had," she breathed out in surprise.

"Actually, a male student was admitted in 1765," Polly said from where she had perched herself on Beverly's desk, her laptop whirling nosily on her knees.

"What happened to him. Surely he would be on the boards in the hall," Annabelle asked.

Every single girl who had graduated from St Trinians had had her lifetime achievements painted onto a board and then that board had been hung in the dining hall for all to see. They were worshipped by the girls who all aspired to have long and noteworthy ones.

"He was murdered by the head girl three weeks into his St Trinian's career," Polly told the group and Kelly snapped her bright white teeth in Alexander's direction who managed not to gulp.

"Oh yes, now you mention it. Nicholas Minton. He's buried under the tennis court if you wanted to pay your respects," Camilla said to Alexander with a wink.

"Alright, I'll leave you in the Fritton girls' capable hands son," Ivan said and he left after a quiet conversation with his son.

"But what is he going to do? We haven't got any facilities for boys and he can hardly attend french class with me next," Annabelle said.

"Why not? I am a dab hand at French," Xander protested.

"Because we are learning the vocab to enable us to seduce and blackmail the French minister for when he visits the UK in two months time and I don't think you really fit the description of the company he usually keeps, the creep. What about you Kell?"

"Sorry, I've got to sort out the bastard in the biology room. He's a few more days away from giving up the code," she shrugged and Xander looked at her with wide eyes.

"Did you try the toenail removal as I suggested?" the Headmistress inquired.

Kelly groaned. "Yeah, and he's down two fingers and an earlobe but he's cracking under electrocution. Give me two days max and I'll have the combination to that safe," she reassured the Head. Xander shuddered along with Flash.

"Pol? Can't you take him?" Flash asked the geek.

"I am here you know," Xander protested.

"American market opens in ten and the FBI is trying to crack Lucy's mainframe so I've got to lend a hand there. Maybe try the Totties," she suggested.

"No, it's Chelsea's turn to present in Art and she showcasing her lingerie line," Annabelle shot the idea down.

"I don't mind going to the lingerie show," Xander said eagerly.

"It's not that kind of show. She's used Kevlar in the material so she's just going to be shooting a semi-automatic at some dummies to prove the underwear will protect the wearer from bullets," Kelly told him after flicking his ear.

"Well, off to lessons with the firsties then I suppose until we find somewhere for you to stay," Camilla ordered and the group dispersed, leaving Xander with the Headmistress as she led him to the chemistry classrooms.


End file.
